


Acus

by Valentis



Series: Caligo [2]
Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Blood, Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valentis/pseuds/Valentis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie got shot in the hand. Seth needs to patch him up.<br/>Prompt 3; physical ailments (bullet wounds)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acus

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!

They entered the motel room swiftly. Seth was quick to place the duffel bag on the nearest surface he found, taking a seat by the table. He eyed Richie closely as he shoved the woman down on the couch, walking over to take a seat next to Seth. Seth felt cold sweat trickling down his neck as he stared at her, quickly warning her.

 

"Do not move, do not say shit, and you will live through this." He said, pointing the gun at her. He would have given her a speech, if his brother had not been his top priority right now. Placing down the gun, he reached out for Richie.

 

"Let me see.." He mumbled, worry eating his insides. He took Richie's hand, cradling it like it was precious and fragile, feeling the warmth radiate through it. He heard Richie exhale, like a sigh, and he looked up to see his brother absently staring at the woman.

 

"Hey, Richie, focus. I need to remove this." He said, gently fiddling the tape. Richie did turn his gaze back, to the hand and then to Seth's, to give him a soundless permission. So Seth did, trying to remove it as gently as possible, the tape having stuck to Richie's skin, pulling it red and itchy. It made a despicable sound and strings of glue were trying to prevent Seth from removing it painlessly. He bit his lip, trying to pick up on any clues of Richie suffering. So far, none.

 

"Can you move your fingers?" He asked, anxious that Richie might have lost that ability. Richie flexed his fingers in a hiss, Seth let out a sigh of relief.

 

A stench of blood filled the room, a stench that Seth had never been comfortable with. Fresh blood was already gut wrenching, but when old, clotted, contaminated blood was sticking to the tape and smudging over Seth's hands he felt himself retch.

 

Feeling sick to his stomach, he finally revealed the wound, the tape getting dropped to the floor. "Shit, Richie." Seth said out loud, staring at the hand in disbelief. It required attention, and not just a little. Especially that blood was still trickling down Richie's palm, to his wrist, staining his clothes.

 

Seth looked up at Richie out of worry, watching his brother casually stretch and roll his neck while staring at the wound. Richie shrugged, and even if the calm energy was soothing Seth a little bit, Seth was far from calm.

 

"Here, you'll need this." Seth sighed, handing over the bottle of liquor he had taken from the store. He mindlessly watched Richie try and open it without moving his wounded hand, succeeding and taking a sip. Seth didn't even know where to begin.

 

"It needs to be cleaned." He concluded, holding Richie's wrist as he pushed the chair back and stood up, grabbing his gun and pointing it at the teller. "Do not _move_." He pulled Richie with him to the bathroom, placing down the gun on the sink. He let go of Richie, to wash his hands, using the cheap motel soap and thoroughly trying to scrub them clean in hot water.

 

"Just patch it up already!" He heard Richie yell, desperation dripping from his voice. Seth turned to watch his brother hold his hand, staring at it with wide eyes. Seth dismissed it as Richie being shaken by the wound, and reached out to grab it.

 

"Okay okay, geez, just calm down will you?" Seth said anxiously, turning the water cold and pulling the hand underneath the stream of water, feeling Richie's tense presence, hand clenching the sink, veins pulsing with frantic energy. "We'll fix it."

 

Richie's breathing got heavy and he hissed once Seth fingers, gently but imprecisely snaked inside Richie's wound. He himself was holding his breath as he shuddered at the thought of touching the flesh, but feeling no other option. He rubbed soap into it, feeling chunks of dried blood loosen and swirl down the sink, wanting not to watch, feeling his knees weaken. The glue from the duct tape was sticking to Richie's wound, and the water running was stained dark red by blood.

 

Thinking the wound was clean enough, he closed the faucet, taking a towel to dry his own hands before tapping Richie's hand dry, failing as blood barely stopped flowing.

 

"We need to stitch this up." Seth realized, horror filling him up.

 

"Well that's just fucking great!" Richie shouted, grabbing the towel to press down on his hand harder than Seth dared to. "Why don't we just dig myself a grave while we're at it?"

 

"Richie, you're being erratic." Seth growled. "I'll fix it, ok?

 

"Since when did you know shit about wounds?" He heard his brother hiss behind his back. He grabbed the gun from the sink.

 

"You can rampage all you want _after_ this is over. I can't do anything if you're behaving like some child." Seth explained, annoyed, as he exited the bathroom.

 

"I'm not behaving like a child!" Richie bit, following Seth out like a shadow.

 

"No? Well just calm the fuck down and we'll get this over with." He said, knowing he had a needle and thread in his duffel bag. _Just in case._ "Good girl." He said, pointing at the woman who hadn't moved a muscle.

 

"I am calm." Richie sat down next to him, and Seth grabbed the bottle of liquor from him, focusing better enraged. He put the thread through the needle's eye and dropped it in the alcohol, letting the thread soak up.

 

"Good." Seth said, not wanting to continue arguing with his brother over something stupid, hoping Richie would shut up. And he did. Thus far.

 

He pulled out the needle and thread, dipping the end as well, before tying a secure knot. He put the needle's sharp point by the edge of Richie's wound, that was still staining the towel underneath it. He tried calming his breath, tried to still his shaking hand, tried to empty his mind, but to vain. It was against every cell in his body to hurt his brother like this. It felt like torture.

 

Feeling Richie's nervous anticipation, he tried to calmly but still not slowly push the needle through, puncturing Richie's skin, blood rising to the surface, hoping Richie's flesh would be numb around the tear. It wasn't.

 

"Aww, shit!" He yelled, hitting his fist at the edge of the table as he quickly reached for it for support, and then grabbing the liquor to nearly drain it.

 

"Hey, don't drink it all, I still need you to be able to perform. In case you forgot we still need to cross the border." Seth snickered, sweat running down his nose as he tried so hard to not let the feeling of _I will throw up any second now_ get to him.

 

He pulled the needle up again through the hole in Richie's hand, carefully pulling the thread through the puncture he had made. Counting to ten, he then pushed the needle through another time, panic rising as he noticed that there just wasn't enough skin surface to shut the wound completely. He shook his head, listening to Richie to be ready in case he jumped, so Seth wouldn't hurt him. But Richie remained motionless. He pulled the string, wanting it to close the wound as much as it could, pulled it through and punctured the skin again.

 

Noticing that Richie had taken the towel and was biting down on it, eyes closed, whimpering, Seth felt anxiety rise in his stomach like bile, heart thumping in his ears. "I'm trying my best!" He said, breath hitching.

 

The next one didn't go through. He felt something resist, and he tried pushing harder until Richie yelped out in pain. He slapped Seth's hand, towel spewing out of his mouth. "It's my bone, you moron!"

 

The realization hit Seth like a nightmare, fear pulsating through his veins. He quickly pulled out the needle, Richie's wailing filling his ears. "Sorry." He frantically whispered.

 

He was set on his task, careful not to connect with any bones, careful to make sure it hurt the least, and his determination was draining his mind from anything but his own heartbeat and Richie's small whimpers. It felt like hours, long, torturous hours with cold sweat and blood.

 

And then he had done a full circle.

 

He made a neat little knot and pulled off the string, admiring his handiwork. Not exactly surgeon precise, but it would do. He then bandaged it up like a little gift, as if Richie's hand was the most cherished thing in the world. He looked at Richie, and he was pale like a corpse and eyes glossy as if he had a fever.

 

Seth leaned back, sighing out of relief that the nightmare was over. He felt all the tension in his muscles leave his body like vapour. He smiled.

 

Seth got up, walking over to Richie, hand smothering his brother's head. "It's alright, everything will be just fine, ok?" He said, embracing his head, pressing it against his chest while patting it so carefully. He leaned down to place a small kiss on top of it.

 

"We'll be just fine."


End file.
